


What Needs to Be Said

by FreshBrains



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Anal Sex, Background Jessika Pava/Rey - Freeform, Courtship, First Meetings, M/M, Outdoor Sex, POV Finn, Romance, Storm Pilot Gift Exchange, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rey is getting married and Finn tries hard not to fall in love with Commander Poe Dameron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Needs to Be Said

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andquitefrankly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andquitefrankly/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this fic! <3
> 
> This fic takes place in an AU that would canonically be after the events of the film, so minor character/plot spoilers. However, they are not in space--though space regency would be awesome.

“I’m to be married,” Rey says casually, brow arched as she carefully oils the blade of her treasured saber. Every time the edge of her hand hits the gilded hilt, she starts from the top with the soft cloth, caring for it like it was her babe.

Finn glances up from his studies on Resistance battle formations. “Pardon me?” The fire is low, for summer is coming and the nights are getting less chilly. The after-dinner study of the Organa Estate is ideal for quiet moments, for stolen hours between best friends who lead very different lives.

“To Jessika Pava,” Rey says, eyes still trained on the sword. A small smile has crept to her lips. Finn likes that smile. “The Resistance pilot under Commander Dameron.”

“I know who Jessika is,” Finn says. Jessika is a fine lady of good social standing, and she always remembers to bring Rey flowers and treasures from other countries after a mission. “But Rey, _marriage_? We’ve only been home for a year. It seems a little…soon.”

Rey rolls her eyes and discards her cleaning cloth. Since she’s in her night-clothes, she’s not wearing her sword-belt, so she carefully mounts her weapon above the mantle. “There’s another battle coming, Finn. Nothing is too soon.”

Finn doesn’t really like the sound of that. The world has been at war for decades—it started before they were even born and it will probably last long after they’re dead. It’s the way of life, especially on the grounds of their benefactress and protector, General Organa. But right now, in this moment, they’re safe. Rey is training under Master Skywalker and will exceed all expectations, and Finn is happily busying himself training the Resistance on the best tactics against the First Order.

“I just don’t want you to settle is all,” he says carefully, eyes following Rey as she moves restlessly around the room.

Rey sighs, toying with the little cloth doll she brought from her home country that she keeps on the bookshelf. “I think it would be easy to settle into the Resistance life, to be honest. To settle into the first bit of kindness ever shown to me.” She glances at Finn. “Marriage frightens me, which is why I think I should do it.”

“That’s insane,” Finn mutters, always stubborn, but he thinks he understands. “But do you love her?”

There’s a moment of quiet, filled only by the fire crackling and the bullfrogs burping outside. “I really do,” Rey finally says, her face flushing with happiness. She bites her lip and turns away from Finn, hiding her pleasure.

That’s all it takes to convince Finn.

*

Only weeks after their engagement, Jessika and her entire squadron come to stay at the Estate at General Organa’s invitation. Finn and Rey are happy to have the extra guests—the grand home is eerie and quiet with General Organa usually on base and Chewie off doing lord knows what. An entire wing is set up for the pilots with Jessika getting the largest suite as the guest of honor.

Pilots are a friendly and easygoing bunch—they like their wine and music, but they’re also respectful and polite, always assisting with washing and daily chores. Temmin Wexley, called "Snap," comes with his husband and their brood of small children, so Finn loves watching after the little ones, playing with them and putting them to bed. It’s a welcome change from long days of training before collapsing into a restless sleep.

“Are you a father, Finn?” Snap’s husband smiles as Finn holds their youngest daughter in his arms, rocking her to sleep.

“No, but I hope to be,” Finn says, nuzzling the child’s cheek with his nose. “Someday, at least.”

“You’ll make an excellent parent,” Snap says, slinging his arm around his husband’s shoulders. He glances across the parlor where a young pilot is sitting with their two sons. “You know, our Commander was just saying how he’d like to start a family soon. I suppose it’s difficult with a war on.”

Finn would disagree—the orphanages are full to bursting during wartime—but he doesn’t say so. Instead, he’s fixated on the pilot in question. The man looks to be a bit older than himself, lean and several hands shorter, with a wonderful shock of curly, dark hair and a husky laugh that radiates throughout the room. He wonders how he’s never noticed him before. “That’s Commander Poe Dameron, right?”

“The very one,” Snap says. “Commander, come and introduce yourself to our host.”

Finn feels himself flush at the unwanted attention. “Oh, there’s no need—“

“Hello, soldier,” Poe says as he strides over, the two young boys trailing at his flanks. He has an easygoing way about him, a confidence in his step. “I was hoping I would get a moment to speak with you. I’m afraid proper introductions went to the wayside once I saw the little ones.” He winks at Finn, a bold little move that has Finn practically reeling with arousal. “I’m much like them, you see. I enjoy toys and music and long naps.”

“And you’re noisy and high-maintenance,” Jessika calls from where she’s sitting with Rey, and the pilots holler and jeer—the most noise the Estate has heard in months. It’s a welcome alteration.

“Pleased to meet you,” Finn finally manages, holding out his hand to the Commander.

“Charmed,” Poe says, and it’s so sweet and _earnest_ , not at all condescending like some of the cockier First Order members Finn has known. His hand is rough and strong but small in Finn’s.

_Oh_ , Finn thinks, feeling his cock stir in his trousers. _This can’t be good_.

*

Finn is an early riser, and more times than not, he’s the first one awake at the Estate. He washes quickly in the cold basin from the night before and wears a simple shirt and pants for a morning ride on Millennium, the handsome speckled horse he inherited from General Organa’s late husband. Falcon, the horse’s sister, belongs to Rey. But when he steps into the barn, expecting only silence and the sweet smell of hay and manure, he realizes he’s not alone.

“Yes, that’s a good girl,” he hears Poe say in that low, crooning voice of his. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

For an awful moment, Finn thinks he may have stumbled across Poe in a tryst, but then sees Poe running a brush through Falcon’s silky mane. Poe is a vision in the milky morning light—his trousers are already dotted with mud and he’s got his suspenders dangling around his hips, his white shirt unbuttoned at the throat.

Finn wants to drag his tongue down Poe’s collar, nip at the bones there, make Poe squirm and pant.

“Good morning, Commander,” he says, clearing his throat so as not to startle Poe or the horses.

Poe glances over, already smiling. “Oh, good morning, Finn. Please, call me Poe. There’s no rank between us.” He offers Finn the brush. “I hope I’m not overstepping in seeing to the horses. I don’t get to ride very often, especially in Yavin. We don’t really have horses in the fourth district.”

Finn takes the brush. “Yavin IV. Agriculture, right?”

“Indeed. Fruit, mostly. The entire district smells so sweet all summer during harvest. It’s like a dream.” He sits on an overturned bucket, watching Finn work. Finn feels self-conscious with his back turned to Poe—he knows Poe cannot see his scars through his shirt, but Finn still knows they’re there.

“You miss it,” Finn says, recognizing the wistfulness in Poe’s voice. “Do you have family there?”

“My father,” Poe says. “But we write often.” There’s a comfortable silence that spreads throughout the barn. “Finn, would you care to escort me on a walk around the Estate?”

*

Finn could walk with Poe every day for the rest of their lives. Poe is an excellent walking partner—he matches Finn’s pace step for step, he keeps good conversation, and, most importantly, he tucks his hand on the crook of Finn’s arm, letting himself be escorted like he’s being courted.

And Finn _likes_ that. Just that smallest feeling of warm pressure against the inside of his elbow makes him feel proprietary, like Poe is _his_ , like no one else can walk with him like this.

When he tells that to Rey later, she just laughs. “And you think _I’m_ insane,” she says, and doesn’t elaborate, even when Finn presses her to.

*

The week before the wedding, Finn’s resolve is broken when he finds Poe going for a swim at the pond.

“What,” Poe says, glancing over his shoulder to smile at Finn, “have you never seen a man undress before?”

There’s a momentary battle of _so many_ emotions for dominance—part of Finn is offended, since he’s a former soldier for one of the most sterile, inhumane regimes in the world, so _of course_ he’s seen men undress due to lack of private living conditions, but _also_ , he’s never seen a man of Poe’s stature and class undress to the skin in front of a beautiful blue swimming hole on the outside of the Estate during summer dusk.

“Apologies,” Finn murmurs, averting his gaze. As usual, shame leads the way in his mind—he hasn’t been in the First Order in nearly a year, but shame is something ingrained quite deeply. He may spend his days walking the Estate with Lady Rey, or working his sore muscles and mangled back in the hospital yard under the watchful eye of the doctors, or poring over Master Skywalker’s vast collection of books, but in the end, he’s still a soldier.

_Ex_ -soldier. He’s working on it.

“Don’t apologize,” Poe says amiably. He’s still glancing over his shoulder like a minx, all bronze skin and dark curls, eyes flinty and mysterious in the low light. “In fact, why don’t you join me?” With that, he skims off his underthings, kicking them into the pile of clothing on the bank of the pond.

When he was in the barracks, Finn would dream of men with backsides like that, but he didn’t actually think they were _real_.

Finn feels his skin go hot, feels sweat break out on his forehead. “Commander Dameron, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” He subconsciously loosens his cravat around his neck, trying to suck in cool air to calm his overheating body.

He hears a splash, and when he looks back, Poe is in the water already, the green pond rippling around him. When he surfaces, he slicks his dark hair back with one hand, still grinning at Finn. “What are you so afraid of, Finn?”

Finn takes a deep breath. _I’m not afraid_ , he says, and even though he knows his voice will shake, he says, “If it would please you, meet me in the barn after your swim.” He turns and walks away before Poe can reply.

*

Apparently, the age-old wood of a barn that survived the Battle of Yavin is sturdy enough for a man to be held up against and fucked within an inch of his life. Finn knows this, because he’s had the pleasure of holding one Poe Dameron up against the very same wood, his cock buried inside him to the hilt.

“My, you _are_ a treasure,” Poe says, voice half-laugh and half-groan, face buried in Finn’s neck. His hands are curled in Finn’s hair, tugging and teasing, and his legs are wrapped around Finn’s back. “I’ve never been taken…like this before.”

A flurry of arousal runs through Finn’s veins—arousal and unbidden possession. _I’m the first to do this to Poe Dameron_ , he thinks, hips stuttering. _I want to have many firsts with him_. “This is improper,” he says, a non-sequitur if there ever was one.

“I like improper,” Poe says, head falling back to slam against the wall after Finn angles his hips to thrust against Poe’s prostate. “I like _you_.”

“You know,” Finn says, “I like you, too.” He really does like Poe—likes his smile, his warm skin, the excited look on his face when he climbs into the cockpit for a fly around the Estate. He thinks he’d like to spend a lot more time with him. With one long, slow thrust, Finn comes, teeth clamped over Poe’s shoulder, hands sweaty under Poe’s thighs.

“Well,” Poe says breathlessly, “that settles that, then.”

Finn wants to say something—wants to profess his love for this wonderful man, wants to ask for his hand, wants to say all the silly things he’s been keeping inside ever since he saw Poe at that swimming hole. Instead, he carefully hitches Poe up into his arms and lowers him to the ground, intent on getting his mouth on the other’s man cock and making him come. Poe groans, back bowing off the hay-covered barn floor, and Finn knows he’s made the right choice.

Besides, they’ve got nothing but time. Words can come later.


End file.
